Hobbit of Mine
by Citadela
Summary: Summary kindly supplied by kkolmakov, author, artist, mom, baker and, I suspect, an alien emissary stranded here, to our advantage: "A hobbit is offered a job of a burglar, and firmly refuses of course. A Dwarven King doesn't refuse one night of true hobbit hospitality. What happens when a one night stand stretches into a quest for Erebor."
1. Enter a hobbit and a hole

Today is my friend's birthday. I am posting this story because of it. It is not a gift. I would not presume to offer her such a subpar one. But, it is a nod to celebrate great times we have frolicking and fangirling together.

Happy birthday, Alien :)

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*No Infringement Intended*

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HOBBIT OF MINE

There once was a hobbit and a hole. Not a nice hobbit hole in the ground. The relation of this hole to the hobbit was that it was not so much a hobbit hole as a hole in a hobbit; a rumbly hole in a hobbit's stomach, to be precise.

Ever hungry, and now exceptionally but not unexpectedly so, our hobbit was about to sit to a steaming supper.

One could almost say that the whole day was exceptional. Well, exceptionally tiring, anyway. The day was anything but usual, tranquil Shire affair where everyone politely and stubbornly minded their own business (but knew everything about their neighbors anyway.) Today somebody very non politely and stubbornly refused to mind their own business and even went so far as not to let our good hobbit go about their own business of enjoying a spot of sun, on a fine, warm morning, surrounded by gentle swirls of a bit of Southfarthing's finest.

The hobbit hummed and shook the curly head again, now sitting and spreading crisp white knee napkin with a bit more energy and flare then it usually asked for.

"Wizards, indeed! I ask you! Next there'll be elves and gnomes sprouting in the back garden!" There was nobody else in the hobbit hole to witness this somewhat unseemly muttering to oneself habit of otherwise estimable and normal hobbit. Well, for the most part normal hobbit. There were escapades, there were antics, there was frolicking... All safely tucked away memories now, our hobbit thought.

The repast on the table, everything was ready and inviting, in neat order and it's proper place, bread sliced, water poured, spoon picked up, when there came a loud rap at the door.

Now, our hobbit is an upstanding and well respected Shireling. And one does not get to be well respected in the Shire for no reason. Manners, upbringing, good family and above all self-possession are prerogatives of such a person. Poise and firm rule over one's exhibits was something every hobbit imbibed with mother's milk, even the ones that had some of the Took in them.

So, no eyes rolled, not even after the repeated rapping was heard, but with shoulders pushed back, legs little apart, lungs filled with air needed to deliver a polite but firm rebuff, the hobbit, looking back with regret at a well deserved supper now getting cold, allowed for one resigned, quiet sigh to escape and opened the door.

The look under the massive eyebrows facing the hobbit was showing that the owner of said feature found the sight before him curious.

Hobbit's nose twitched. "Yes?"

With a slight bow and the eyes under the eyebrows never shifting their appraising gaze, with smallest, mocking it seemed to our hobbit, smirk, the newcomer offered : "Dwalin, at your service", and entered.

Later, standing in an empty larder, the hobbit's head reeled from the things seen and heard, images and noises, tales and discussions of the evening. After the first one very soon an overwhelming number reaching 14, um... persons arrived to now crowd the cherished home. With every new image resurfacing, and with a sound of a fine china and crockery with hand painted poppies, grandmother Grubb's favorites, being handled without any consideration, the soft, elegant, heart shaped lines of hobbits lips were ironed and bleached of colour as a result of being pressed more and more together.

First there were a lot more at-your-services followed by odd glances and odder names and various dwarven physiognomies, most unusual hair and beard styles, some ridiculous, some impressive, a lot of stomping and finally a lot of eating. The lack of manners was jaw dropping to say the least. A provocation, one might say. Our hobbit couldn't say weather all this frolicking was usual for dwarfs, though it seem likely, for all of the uninvited visitors merrily pillaging hobbits larder belonged to this "proud and noble " race, save one. The wizard could not have been mistaken for a dwarf if only for his abnormal height alone. Although the excess hair was adorning his person, no braids were in evidence, no ornaments and no open mouth chewing. Not a crumb could be seen in his bird's nest of a beard.

"Well, this too shall pass", the murmuring returned. With this comforting thought, hobbit inhaled and exhaled deeply, entering the parlor unnoticed and settling comfortably in a stuffed chair pushed back in a corner besides the hearth. A kingly figure was leaning on the mantle and was singing in a melancholy voice.

The sleep was unnoticed, if slow in it's coming. Amongst the images and sounds, the plethora of intruding impressions, couple insisted on churning inside one lovely hobbit's head. On the verge of consciousness a map unwrapping floated, and strong, calloused but reverent fingers gliding over it. Very finely drawn and on the parchment of highest quality; our hobbit knew maps, had several very good ones in the family library and even drew some in the days an industrious streak would show itself under the hill, the map was offering untold adventures.

With the map there followed a key. Again, the same fingers holding it.

The image of small, geometrical but almost delicate golden peace on a string lying on a patch of tanned skin, under a bobbing throat moved by a rumbly voice came unbidden to a mind teetering on the verge of sleep, not yet there but no longer awake. If it were by any chance awake it would be frozen at the presence of this impression overriding all of the others, and there were plenty astonishing things seen and heard this strangest of evenings.

"Why are these ridiculous thoughts assailing me?", it would say. "Where do they come from? And about a grump and a warrior. Will you sit around his stone manse and darn his socks?"

In reality, only unconnected lines were unconsciously muttered "...Baggins, at your ser...v...c...Yes...Bow… Smile…. Baggins, at your… Baggins, at your serving...Smile…Bow...No, no, we are buying no excitement here… Take your dragons elsewhere… "

The daily mutterings continued into the sleep talk. Our hobbit was a frety thing, it seems. And weather a pair of blue eyes burning with intensity under a pair of deep frown lines, between two glossy, ebony eyebrows appeared on course of the restless sleep will remain unknown.


	2. Of feet

Something was different.

Hobbit woke. There were too many hands. And arms and legs. There was a surplus of occupants in the cozy bed. One too many. Turning slowly, despite the dimness of the room, the hobbit tried to appraise the level of overplus of limbs and uncovered skin.

The smoky smell of the long dark mane was familiar and brought back memories of what look like to be these extra arms and calloused fingers everywhere, exploring, enveloping one pliant hobbit in a passionate, demanding embrace.

Embrace that was first felt cradling slumbering petite body while carrying it to lay it in soft cloud of sheets and feathery pillows. And staying when hobbit would not let go, pushing a sleepy cheek against a warm, strong neck, pulsating with life and breath. The dwarf was willing to share.

"So, now what?" wondered the owner of this not unpleasantly crowded bed listening to deep breaths of a sated dwarf wrapped deep in his dreams and one immobile, long since lost any feeling in the appendage their body was lying on, hobbit. "When in a potentially sticky situation, make a list." One could always rely on good, old Shire common sense based wisdom.

All right, let's see what do we have:

"1. Is there any future in this?

2\. Could I imagine a future with this dwarf? "

Turning slowly, one small, somewhat chubby hobbit finger reached to gently caress one shiny eyebrow. They were so obsidian and fluffy, emphasizing that penetrating scrutiny the two cerulean eyes gave the hobbit in the entry hall, while the voice that could not go any lover produced strange, never before felt shivers and goosebumps, that returned again and again throughout the three times hobbit's puny carnal knowledge was extensively enlarged during the night.

3\. Do I want a future w….Yes!

So, that seems to answer that. "How shall we proceed?" was the title of the next list that was doomed to never being finished.

Now facing the slumbering bed partner, and ogling one muscled and hairy armpit, hobbit's mind was pleasantly and nervously engaged spinning images of the great gestures of affection and the things to now come.

There were smiles and busses, there was running into the strong embrace and twirling in the sun, there were lazy afternoons and lazy afterglows, and long conversation about meaningful things, and laughs, and finally there were little, dwabbit's feet pattering on the polished floors. "I wonder if they'll have hobbit's feet or more dwarvish ones?" The hobbit found dwarf's feet surprisingly narrow and almost hairless. All the rest was proportionally satisfactory. "And then some", a small snort threatened to escape the hobbit.

"Morning."

At that a wave of shivers wrecked petite hobbit's anatomy.


	3. And foot

"I was adopted."

The dwarf eyebrows threatened to lose their way in the lush and still thick mane above his forehead. The hair was every proud dwarf's pride and joy and the noble blood showed itself in this way too. No receding line, no tattoo covered bald patches, no comb over for the heir of Durin. Not that the dwarf cared for such things, but it was his duty in all things to forward what was expected from the Sons of Durin, and he was one from head to toe.

"Well, not really adopted", the hobbit continued blabbering," more like kidnapped. Kid-napped, that is interesting, never thought about the origin of the word..." Nervous laughter interrupted the stream of nonsense coming from the other side of the bed. "My father found me in some shrubs not far from here, over the hill, and under the leafy branches of a small copse of trees actually, and took me with him. I loved him to bits but never could fathom how he would just take a child and neither he nor anyone else wondered or put much effort into finding out where I came from, did anyone miss me, who I am… Kindness can be such a righteous thing..."

The last bit was very quiet. Thorin, for yes it was he who has put our hobbit to bed so majestically, was at a loss for words.

He opened his eyes to a pleasant softness of a homey bed and warmth of a soft body a moment ago. Last night's activities left him relaxed and he needed that bit of distraction and a respite from constant awareness of the mission he was on. For it has started. Before they have set foot and faced that road, in his mind everything has already began.

There will be no more place for pleasant distractions, for eating homey meals and smoking by the hearts in cozy homes filled with doilies and laying down with soft and gentile, wide eyed hobbits caught in his charisma.

Still silent Thorin, was fast realising this encounter he allowed himself after summarizing that their host is no more willing to play the role Gandalf assigned them than Thorin was inclined to accept it, is going to prove itself headache inducing, kept dressing and pulled on his boots. The situation was becoming utterly confusing, if Thorin would let himself be confused, and he kept searching for words to extract himself from the present company with as little fuss as possible. Thank Mahal they were leaving for their quest promptly.

"Well", he said rising and buckling his belt, tossing his dark tresses back from his face, "Thank you for your hospitality, to me and to my company. The Shirelings truly live up to their reputation of a gentle folk." Leaning over the bed and brushing an errant curl from hobbit's forehead, he tried to smile and give some sort of show of appreciation. What did he know about distressed hobbits?! And where did this forlorn look come from? Did they not spent a pleasant night together? Was it not what the hobbit asked for and offered when Thorin started to leave the room last night?

"Sure..."

"Thank you"... "I'll be out there in a bit." Concentrating it seemed at something at the foot of the bed, hobbit stood up slowly.

Thorin nodded and left the room.

"Stupid, stupid hobbit! Dwabit feet, my foot." Jerking the clothes on, the hobbit was feeling tears welling up. "And to say I didn't know there was nothing more to it but little light recreation for him."

But, training at self possession and ever down to earth mindset of a Shierling kicked in and with few calming breaths, now properly dressed hobbit went after their bed partener.

There was nobody in the house. Distinctly dwarfish voices could be heard outside, slowly fading away.

"You were late for breakfast." That sounded like Dwalin. An indistinguishable rumble that must have come from Thorin was the answer. Some neighing and few short and curt yells and the voices very soon faded away.

The hobbit turned and went to prepare the first breakfast.


	4. Where will you be?

HOM4

Again, there was a hole under the hill. The hole, again, was hobbit's. But this time it seemed it needed different kind of nourishment to feed it closed. After first breakfast it hasn't diminished and the hobbit housing this hole contemplated starting on the second breakfast of freshly baked, thin crust cherry pie and a pot of aromatic black coffee, perhaps with a dolop of milk, that was one of the hobbit's little eccentricities, but had a feeling this one would be ineffectual, too.

The hole was persistently weighing the hobbit down, and the oxymoron of this feeling was not unnoticed by the hobbit. The heavy empty feeling of a void in the chest area almost made the diligent and already pruning hands drop all but forgotten plate in to join its peers being given a lush, sudsy soak below.

If there were any souls to witness the scene in the kitchen, they would have seen a hobbit, lost in thought, not moving, as if frozen in the middle of washing dishes, looking with unseeing eyes through the crochet half-curtains covered window, overlooking a herb garden in the back yard. The gentile yellow glow of the morning light gave the scene deceptive warmth and feeling of peace, but anyone observing little more carefully would have seen the twitching of the upturned nose, the play of the jaw muscles as teeth were being grinded and the more and more evident frown lines on a fair brow that haven't known many of those. The level of muttering would approach what might be called alarming, too.

"Where will you be, my dear Miss Baggins, 25 years from now, in the year 2940?"

All movements arrested, the small figure standing in the kitchen, was diving and floating through the feelings and recollections, seeping in the space the hole was making, tasting and navigating, seeing, in her mind's eye, a memory of their only male teacher, history and cartography was his subject, asking random students this question one day in class, in the Ladies Outstanding School of Excellence. The unfortunate acronym of this esteemed institution rendered its little mistresses liable to all sort of teasing, and not always of the friendly kind. The Loserettes was particular favorite with the young gentlemen from HOBBS (Hobbiton Outstanding Boys Boarding School) with which LOSE shared a yard and which was actually a male part of the same educational institution for young hobbits from good families.

"Where would I be? Knew it then as I know it now: I'll be in Bag End washing dishes or forever folding laundry. I would be in the same place I was then and in the same place I'll be in another 25 years. It is a safe and peaceful place, familiar and uneventful. It is a place where a hobbit belongs. And what is wrong with that?!"

The washcloth splashed into the full sink and before the water was calm and bubbles were quietly popping out of existence, drumming of bare feet on a dusty, winding road could be heard fading away.

In the now hobbitless kitchen, still bathed in the yellow light, dust moths will be dancing their solitary dance in undisturbed silence, for a long time; in a hole, in the ground, under the hill.


	5. Tea party

"How far ahead did those bloody dwarfs get on their stubby, narrow, little feet?!

The hobbit has been running down the dirt road for ages, leaving poofs of dust behind. She begun to think she would have to give up chasing after the company and invite herself to some unsuspecting neighbour's door and ask for some refreshment and aid to get back home. Already thinking of what to say and how to explain this "spectre-chic" look she was sporting, covered like this, from the plated curls to the hem of her split, riding skirt, in a layer of fine white-grayish dust, she noticed a cloud of the same provenance appearing far upfront , just where the road was meeting the property of the Widower Overhill.

Of course, they would go that way. The owner is probably just accidently checking how many paces his front yard has, in a slow and leisurely manner, and counting the frequency of the traffic going by so the report might reach the furthest farms by evening!

Alternately walking and hopping more then running, her side pierced with the effort and breath coming out in puffs, our hobbit finally closed up on the swirls of dust settling around the group that could have easily been identified by the beacon height of it's resident wizard alone, if the width of each of the 13 non vertically challenged persons sharing the trait of abundance of hair was not telling enough. Company of Thorin Oakenshield occupied the space in front and beside the carved plank gate and fence, that marked the entrance on the Overhill Cottage grounds.

"Of course," was the cryptic comment the hobbit hissed quietly on surveying the scene.

There was the Widower Overhill, with his fine figure leaning on the gate post, owner of the one of the largest pony farms this side of the East Farthing, and our hobbit's only adult adventure before certain dwarf presented himself at her door. He was conversing pleasantly with Balin, Dori, Thorin and Gandalf. The rest were occupied lounging around the road. They noticed the hobbit's approach when she was still some distance away and she could see the attention and curious looks were turning her way to follow her progress over the last of the breadth that was left between them.

She straightened her clothes and patted her hair and stepped to the group by the gate.

"Well, my dear, just in time to join us," Gandalf offered , before she could speak a word, as if all of this was precisely as it was agreed upon, and indeed it was perfectly normal that there stood Dori with a cup and saucer in his hand, the mild, pleasant fragrance coming from it. The stunned hobbit had an image of a somewhat deranged tea party being held at the gate, and that she was late for it, but everyone was too polite to comment.

"Is that camomile?", she blurted.

"Why, yes." Dori beamed. "Good Master Overhill offered some. I believe there is some left if you are in favor of it", he gestured towards a big, doily covered tray, with a tea pot and several cups, balancing on a wide, wooden post that supported the gate. "It is really very refreshing after trotting about in all this dust."

"What are you doing here, Mistress Baggins?"

The second voice shook the hobbit from her shocked daze and made her slowly turn her eyes towards the speaker. Suppressing the surge of anger that she new was not justified but still couldn't help but feel, same as the stub of guilt and self reproach about feeling it, that came almost simultaneously, the hobbit raised her eyebrow imitating the dwarf's reaction and stance in a not quite as majestic manner.

"I signed it. It is signed." She waved her hand holding the neatly folded scroll of parchment in front of their noses. She imagined she noticed a bit of red showing up on dwarven king's cheeks. Balin, smiling slightly, took it to inspect it closer.

Thorin, in what was beginning to appear to be his usual manner around the hobbit, when they were not sharing a bed that is, scowled deeply, turned around and addressing Gandalf over his shoulder, stated for all to hear, "I will not be responsible for other's foolishness and unreasonable decisions thrusted upon me on a wizard's whim!" His iron shod boots thumped away towards the place where Fili was still tending to his weapons.

"The contract is valid. Mistress Baggins, welcome to the company." Balin gave her the parchment back.

"Thank you, Master dwarf", she inclined her head slightly and lowered her eyes in order to get her bearings. There was no turning back now, she was off on an adventure, for better or for worse.

"We will need one more pony, Master Overhill, if you can provide it."

"Well, hello my dear." The Overhill Cottage and full set of gleaming, white teeth owner turned his warmest grin towards the now official burgler of the company. "I see you are dressed appropriately for a bit of an adventure, are you not? And now we will lose you to the company of these upstanding gentlemen." His eyes danced with mirth and she felt her cheeks burning.

"Master Overhill." She acknowledged him with a short nod, managing to appear coolly polite and turned to leave his company, but realised that she didn't have where to go. So she made it as if she deliberately had intention to plop down on the grass by a dwarf, who turned out to be the young, shy one, Odi, Ordi somehow, she was hopeless with names, and seeing him with a notebook and pencil asked abruptly, "What are you writing?" Startled, the dwarf showed her his work without a word and she saw that he was drawing a scene that was before him, some shrubs and trees by the road. She saw the signature, too.

"Ah, Ori. Ori, it is lovely, you are very talented and..." Before she finished she was interrupted by quite snorting nearby and she turned to see Kili (she remembered that one's name, all right) standing nearby and watching her with a smile on his face. Her hackles rose, but she saw he was not being sarcastic, so she smiled back a little and shrugged.

The group by the door broke up and the owner and Balin went towards the group of buildings that could only have been the stables and the rest joined the company. Gandalf explained, beconing the group to follow him : "They will bring us the ponies to the back gate, we should join them there and we can start on our way."


	6. 3x2, 2x3 and a king

HoM6

It is not like she has never ridden a pony, but it is one thing, she now found, to ride a pony for diversion, a few circles in a green paddock and quite the other traveling by one, for hours, teeth clacking, some strange marble inside and to the back of her skull rattling with the rhythm of Myrtle's trot.

Her derriere hurt, her back was stiff, she was sore, uncomfortable and starting to develop a steadily increasing headache, and to top it all, discovered that she has unwittingly forgotten her handkerchiefs.

The withering look Thorin gave her (the puffed up grump!) when she lamented the fact out loud, was still feeding the argument she was leading with him in her head, what seemed like several thousand cling-clangs later.

Glancing ahead to the top of a dark head bobbing in and out of view between other dwarf's, she decided she has exhausted all her arguments, has said quite enough and has thoroughly put the Man in his place, and turned her attention to the increasingly unfamiliar scenery they were now crossing.

"Did you see Her looking like a wraith coming down that road, all covered in dust like that? What could she mean coming after us in that manner?!"

The "Her" drew hobbit's attention even when obvious attempt was being made at talking quietly, and since she was the only "she" in the vicinity, if one didn't count the ponies, and she rather thought one didn't, she continued to listen. Most male voices, and as she was finding out, especially gruff, bass, dwarven ones, could simply not but be overheard.

It was the camomile lover, with the elaborate do, that was contemplating her manners and motives to the dwarf next to him. Her cheeks and neck started to warm up.

"I saw only a lovely complexion, brightened by the exercise." Well, it seems at least the one she caught trying to sneak off with some of her silver tea spoons was being chivalrous, although she sooner suspected it was said to annoy his brother, more than anything else.

"Humpf, you don't say. I would think no dwarven lady would allow herself to appear in such undignified manner." The redhaired one, no, make that carrot haired one, his attitude towards herself certainly deserved no euphemisms, was obviously siding along with the tea aficionado and continued: "Would you like to see your younger sister ever make a spectacle of herself like that?"

She noticed the attention of several other members of the party was shifting towards the back of the group and she could sense that Torin was now listening to what was being discussed, even though he appeared not to have changed his pose or turned his head in the slightest.

"I have only a younger brother, and Ori looks lovely to my eyes however and in whichever manner he chooses to appear!" The statement was followed by a wink and the tap on Ori's shoulder, who's whole face, right up to the tips of his ears became instantly beet red.

After further Ori teasing and laughter it produced has died down, grateful that the subject wandered off away from her person but still affected by what was said, her attention was now firmly on her fellow travelers, and she contemplated each of the individuals in front of her. The evening in her house, en masse, they seemed all to be just non distinguishable dwarfish. They were all loud and hairy, and they shared the trait of favoring muddy footwear.

Now, after spending inordinate amount of time riding among them, well, behind them to be more precise, she started to form individual impressions of them. Watching them jostle and bob and have an airborne exchange of coin purses, many paying their loses and, only few of them catching their gains, which were apparently for a bet they had going before her arrival, about whether she'll be mad enough to join them (she showed them, ha!), she now saw there were differences in bearing and character of each member of the company.

"They are a merry bunch, aren't they?" Gandalf was now riding alongside her and raised from her thoughts, she lifted her eyes to look at him. "Yes, yes… You could say that. They are certainly much more colourful company than I had the pleasure of meeting...um, ever."

"I expect so. One rarely meets dwarfs in the Shire and especially on such friendly terms. They are very secretive, keep to themselves and don't give their trust easily. But very merry company, once you get close and they let you in."

Hobbit just twitched her little, button nose and hmed, but said nothing. She didn't think they'd "let her in" no matter how close she was, and she thought she got pretty close to at least one of them. Before she had the time to ask herself is it to late to turn back, she reminded herself she had signed the contract, and she was one hobbit that kept her promises, thank you very much. Trying to distract herself from dwelling on these thoughts, she opened her mouth and blurted out the first thing she thought of. "I am horrible with names, always have been. And they are so many. And they all have strange dwarvish names, which all sound the same!"

Smallest of snorts, a ghost of a snort so to say, escaped Gandalf. He turned his head to her and said: "Did you happen to learn any counting nursery rhymes as a child? This is just like that- you learn it as a rime. We'll name this one "The Company of Thorin Oakenshield".

Try after me:

In this merry company,

There were three pairs of brothers:

Fili and Kili,

Oin and Gloin,

Dwalin and Balin,

And then there were two of threes:

Bifur, Bofur, Bombur

Dori, Nori, Ori,

The King who these brave men leads,

And Miss Bryony Baggins, too,

For any burgluring needs."

Already started repeating, Bryony went silent at such inclusion of her name and gaped at the wizard, and then started to giggle. The dwarf with the funny hat, the friendly, mischievous one (She had to start remembering their names!) slowed down and joined them and started repeating the song, adding more and more volume to his voice and a rhythm, that soon developed into a melody and he started tapping his thigh with his hand and singing it again and again.

Shortly, it was a merry march many of the dwarfs accepted, and it was carried and turned into a round canon and varied up until Thorin finally gave orders for a halt and they started making camp and preparing to spend the first night of their journey.


	7. The clinks and the clanks

HoM 7

The surprisingly silly song Gandalf sprouted did indeed help. At least with the task of name remembering, she did now manage to assign proper names to proper people. The tune was however stuck in her mind, like a constant buzz, laying a background for her ever swirling thoughts. And, as was the usual case when she settled down to sleep and world around her quited, apart from some loud snoring this time, they were swirling.

Wrapped in her blanket so that only the top of the curly head was peeking, Bryony was again mulling over what she heard and noticed during the day. Such was her nature that she was equally immersed in rehashing her observations of the surroundings while travelling, as of the behaviour and relationships of her companions. The scenery they traversed, which was completely new and wondrous, was getting increasingly wilder and more uncomfortable than the familiar, soft slopes and gentle breezes of the Shire. She missed how her memory already started to steadily adorn and enhance those now faraway hills, in correlation with the number of times she asked herself why did she chose to come, and number of times the thought was hastily and very stubbornly pushed aside.

Kili and Fili's frolics, scaring her with wargs and Orcs, after she wondered about the howling that could be heard while they were making their camp that evening, Thorin's stern rebuke, and Balin's consecvent story of their hardships, took her on a rollercoaster of emotions and brought home once again how far from her own she was.

Once again, she felt lost and unwanted.

Her thoughts converged around one question, mostly. Even though the idea of foul creatures making her their prey and all sort of unpleasant images trying to invade her visual cortex one thing still troubled her more. After hearing those unflattering comments and a whole offhand discussion about her actions, she came to now wonder what she didn't think about before - who among the fellows new Thorin bedded her? She tried to appear steely and calm to herself, using that expression, imagining the dwarfs would use it to, if not worse and she tried to calm down and balance the mortification she felt when thinking about it being public knowledge, by being rational and reasonable. Dwalin must know, he was like a shadow to his leader and friend. Balin, too, not only for being Dwalin's brother, but being very observant and sensitive of any dwarven interests in general and Thorin's in particular. And, that was probably it. Presumably. Hopefully. Kili was smirking, a lot, but who knew what that boy was thinking. At first glance she thought him a bit, well, a bit shallow. Then she saw he noticed stuff. Or appeared to, always smirking whenever her thoughts happened to make her cast a look around in guilt or confusion, and their eyes would meet. His brother remained oblivious, it seemed. Although they were obviously very close, it looked like Kili kept at least some of his observations to himself. Fili just was not good enough actor, she thought, for any other option.

Next morning, she realised she was hearing the clink-clanking again, in the same rhythm as their ponies troth, but it was not the one in her head. This was a new one. She was very hungry, sure, but not yet enough to make her have hearing hallucinations. The old sound, one that was in her head, and a constant headache in the making were now so much part of everyday's ride that they were like background noises- not noticed anymore. This clink-clank got more audible and then quieted at times. She looked suspiciously around her. She rode behind Kili, who was following Fili. Myrtle obeyed her gentle heel tap and picked up her pace just enough to come side by side with Kili. The cling-clang got louder. Hm, curious. She looked at Kili, who looked back with one eyebrow raised and a smallish one sided smirk appearing, before his mouth started forming a silent "Whu..?" She just waved her head and stilled in order to hear better, which in turn made dear, attentive Myrtle slow down. Hobbit now had to strain to hear the clink-clank, falling further behind yet another smirking, curious look wearing face of ever jolly Bofur. "Did you lose something?", he asked. "Hm?", she said distractedly, frowning. "No, I didn't lose anything. Why would I lose anything?"

"You look like you are searching for something. And, like you might think either Kili or myself are hiding it on our persons. Here, shall I show you the inside of my pockets?" The teasing tone was not sarcastic or hurtful, but her head jerked on hearing this, and she blushed furiously. "I am not looking inside your pockets! There is a clink-clank sound and it is not in my head!"

The amused and somewhat stunned look Bofur gave her sobered her up a bit and she started to hastily search for something reasonable to say, to cover her blunder, when they aligned with Kili's pony and he started telling in fake serious tone: " What sort of clink-clunk sound are you hearing?" Bryony glared at him. "I hear only an annoying little mouse right now, sticking it's nose where it doesn't belong." Bofur and Kili laughed out loud. "This will not be your regular, boring, heroic adventure, I can see even now." Kili was adressing Bofur, again pretending a serious, pensive tone. "Kili, if you are not going to be helpful with what aggravates the lady, you better step away, lest her tongue severes your head from your shoulders," Bofur warned Kili. "But my lady Baggins, I only wanted to be of use! How do I know what to look for and help you in your worthy search if you will not instruct me?" Bryony could not help but smile at their antics. The journey was monotonous and ache inducing, and this diversion was not unwelcome. She decide she might as well join in. "It is like a handful of coins being constantly tossed around in a pouch. Like we are travelling with a rich merchant whose dutiful wife has lined his coat with gold coins for safe keeping. And she over did it!" Next moment she noticed Gloin's pony speeding up and Gloin himself giving her a deathly glare in the passing. "Did I say something wrong?", Bryony asked two laughing dwarfs on her sides. "No, no, nothing wrong. I would sooner say you hit close to the center." Bofur's last word was almost incomprehensible, turning into a new bout of laughter in which Kili readily joined.

Bryony turned her head to catch Fili's eyeroll and his smiling face turning back to look where he was going, the beads on his moustaches clink-clanking in rhythm. He said something to Gloin, who was now riding beside him, and Gloin's jaw muscle could be seen working as he clenched his teeth.

" Shall we investigate then?", asked Kili. "Do you still hear it?"

"Yes, not too clear but it is there."

" Hm, let's see what…" "Or who", interjected Bofur. "... is making this mysterious sound." Kili urged his pony to speed up a bit and Bryony followed. Bofur shook his head and remained where he was.

Kili wedged his pony between Gloin and Fili and passed in front of them. Myrtle was left trailing after it.

"Mystery solved." Kili addressed her when she was once again beside him. Tilting his head to the side, he pointed in his brother's direction.

"Indeed. I thought I was having hearing hallucinations."

"No, it's just Fili. I don't even notice it anymore." Kili was still smiling. "He has on him half the Misty Mountain's armory, and all the weaponry sings their praises to the heir of the King under the Mountain." Bryony blinked realising she just now truly registered that Thorin was a king, a leader of a whole nation. She new Thorin was supposedly the ruler of his people and he did show himself to be majestic on occasion. Gandalf dubbed him thus in his inventive memory aid, but this realisation, at this moment made the fact and it's scope more real, and the fact that he was now trying to insure his people's future and bring back its former glory, followed by a handful of not the brightest, nor bravest, or most skillful dwarfs, more saddening. Shaking of these thoughts for later detailed inspection and diverting her attention back to her companion, she noticed that Kili seemed to have two facial expressions most of the time: smiling and smirking. And they both made him look young (which he was) and mischievous ( which will surely be proven to be true shortly).

"How can he be traveling with such a weight upon himself? Oh, that poor pony."

"You can check his pockets, if you like. I am sure he would oblige. He is such a nice young dwarf…", Kili offered, and proceeded to laugh at his own joke.

Bright red of her ears and deep crimson of her cheeks were now clashing for dominance. "I am not checking anyone's pockets! Stop it!."

"Shame. Who knows what you could have found…"

"Probably nothing?"

Kili snorted. "Frisky, Miss Bryony Baggins?"

"You might as well call me Roni. I prefer it. Much less poisonous."

"Roni? How very dwarven. It seems you were destined to become part of true dwarven adventure, Miss Baggins. Roni."

"Yes, I am sure great things lie ahead for me, Master dwarf. Kili."


	8. Some musings, some banter, some cursing

HoM 8

The man, the wizard, pardon, was taking drama to another level - storming off because he couldn't bend Thorin's will to get his way and deliver the company into the hands of elves. Thorin scoffed, he would not go to their dwellings willingly no matter what aid Gandalf believed he could procure there. Irritated by wizard's behaviour, and his constantly feigning support while trying to impose his will and direct the quest according to his goals, Thorin sat on a fallen trunk enveloped in the smoke streaks coming from the pipe held casually between two rows of his even, white teeth.

Well, if Gandalf wanted to compare "stubborn", Thorin can show him stubborn. "Stubborn" was one of dwarfs' secret superpowers, and Thorin was a king among dwarfs.

Very soon, his thoughts changed their object and he was now thinking about hobbit's behaviour, the wide eyed look and the sorrowful gaze, after his woes were told by Balin, and Thorin found himself surprised with the wonderings of his mind.

She was part of the company now, his company, and an occasional thought about her as an individual part of the whole was natural, but why think about her like this, indulging these idle thoughts? Why keep noticing her especially? Is it that she was the one odd in the company: not a dwarf, not previously acquainted, no obvious occupation, not sturdy or brave, nothing like a dwarven female, no help at all with the quest... He exhaled the pipe smoke and shrouded himself in more of the fragrant mist. At least she was not a hinderance. So far. Except she was distracting him, drawing attention to herself with her laughs and her silences, her quirky behaviour and her curious and inquisitive looks, her easy manner with his nephew… He admitted to himself that scaring her was a motive that added more force to the rebuke he aimed at his nephews the other evening. The rebuke that cowed them a bit and that would probably have been less stern had it been anyone else that was the object of their teasing in her stead.

Because she was the one odd; that must be it.

Thorin kept sitting, with his pipe lit, trying to relax in the short lull in the constant bustling about the camp. Bombur was finishing their supper and the dwarfs started gravitating towards him, forming small groups near the fire.

His mind so trapped in the circle of his thoughts, Thorin's eyes however followed the going ons around him, and he registered automatically that She first was sitting by Bofur, but was left alone as he got up to stand in line for food with Bifur, and was kept chatting with him in Khuzdul. Thorin saw her growing more uncomfortable, moving her palms over her bended knees and finally standing up and looking around obviously not knowing where to go or what to do with herself. Their eyes met for a second and she swiftly lowered her gaze, turning around and picking up two bowls, which she carried to the line of hungry dwarfs, waiting for Bombur's stew.

Not proud, not self assured, insecure and stubborn, warm and gentle, soft, doe eyed…agreeable. Thorin felt his scowl abating, and his features relaxing and he cleared his throat, looking about him, as if caught doing something untoward, then leaned back on the tree trunk behind him and closed his eyes to shake off these unwanted thoughts.

He missed Miss Baggins quietly leaving the camp with a steaming bowl carefully balanced in each hand.

* * *

Picking her way among the shrubs and ferns, Roni was trying not to scorch herself, with Kili and Fili's merrily splashing supper.

She found them standing side by side, silently observing the sight before them.

"I brought you your supper."

After waiting a moment with the bawls held in hands reached towards them, and getting no acknowledgement, verbally or otherwise, she deposited the dishes to a nearby boulder and returned to consider the two dwarfs.

"What is going on? Are you two playing some game of statues or... ?"

"We were supposed to guard the ponies…", Kili broke the silence first. "But two are now missing", Fili supplemented.

Roni's attention shifted to the scene they were so fascinated by, and then noticed the turned up trees with their roots very unconventionally pointing upward, smell of freshly dug up earth reaching her receptors. "Something huge did all this. It looks like a giant green fingered old gaffer decided to rid his back garden of all the weed there ever was and ever had an inkling of invading it, and plucked it out with gusto!"

"Mm-hu, something big did this alright." Fili still had a pensive and slightly worried look.

"Let's investigate." Kili started forward, with his sword drawn, with a look of grim concentration on his face, inspecting the trail of destruction that could hardly be missed. Making more noise the more he tried not to, he was already hardly visible amongst the thick greenery a moment later.

Roni stood indecisive for a moment and deliberated between going after the reckless dwarf or running back for help. At the presumed image of the dwarf king's judging scowl and clenched jaw, she decided she was to take action and "save" both brothers, aiding Kili and sending Fili off to bring help. She just knew it would be needed.

In the instant this decision was made she turned to follow Kili while giving Fili his order to march back, with surprising assertiveness. Without looking behind anymore, she moved away, silently and with economy of movement, while Fili was left to do as he was told and fetch help from the camp.

She caught up with Kili, finding him crouching behind a curtain of ferns, peeking into the woods before them, where there must have been a small clearing, as she could see that there was a light there, obviously coming from some kind of large flame. Deep, rumbly voices could be heard, but nothing intelligible could be discerned from this distance.

"Now what?", she whispered in Kili's ear. Well, she guessed that his ear would be somewhere about there. His hair was tangled and ruffled and full of dry leaves and even a small twig or two could be seen in the light thrown by the fire and she had a thought that he looked like a wild thing, a woodland sprite or a pixie. Leaning a bit back from him, Roni told him quietly: "You look a fright."

"I fell. Twice."

Turning to her he tried for a whisper, and failed: "And, really? This is what concerns you right now, mother?" Small smirk however was there, and Roni again was left with deciding whether his behaviour was more irritating or endearing.

"You are old enough to be my grandfather, duffus."

"Alright, alright, keep your breeches on. I'll let you help me with sorting it out later and even let you comb my hair, but let's first see what are we going to do about the situation ahead of us… Where is Fili?"

Roni bristled a little at his cheek, but focused on the problem at hand and answered: "I sent him to get help."

Kili turned to her with an eyebrow raised, very reminiscent of some of his older relatives she had the pleasure of meeting. "You "sent him"? Uncle will love that."

This dubious statement was left unanswered, as ground began to tremble beneath them and a giant troll trudged not far from them, and disappeared into the clearing, Myrtle and Minty whinnying pitiably, carried under his arms.

They followed him without a word and saw him step into a clearing, illuminated by a huge fire in the makeshift fire pit. Two more massive figures sat hunched over, one of them stirring a bubbling and hissing brew in a large cauldron.

Roni thought she never saw or imagined a more stomach turning creatures or array of smells and images.

* * *

When Fili burst into the camp, he made everyone start and stop in their tracks. On undestanding from Fili's breathless yelling that help was needed and that something big has taken couple of their ponies, Thorin was by his side in a second and after finding out that Kili went to "investigate", and that he took the woman with him, he ordered everyone to move. Pushing Fili ahead, to lead them in the right direction, Thorin followed next, muttering a string of curses in both Westron and Khuzdul, some of which were very inventive and have never been heard in Middle Earth before.


	9. Dwarfs in a Blanket

HoM 9

One could only imagine where the trolls got so many burlap sacks. But one better not. Especially if one was stuffed in one of those up to one's chin and could smell and feel how grotty it was.

Not that Roni herself was smelling of roses after all the running and tumbling and hanging upside down and near dismemberment…

She berated herself for what in hindsight showed itself to be a really stupid idea. Her trying her stealth in freeing the ponies, certainly was not the first time, or hopefully the last, she took upon herself a task that was more than she could chew, out of a misguided sense of obligation. She was the company's burglar, however ridiculous the notion was, therefore she was the one to sneak about and steal back what was taken. Had she thought that an eye roll would help any in the present situation, Roni would have certainly indulged. Since she couldn't use her hands, she smacked herself on the forehead mentally.

Her stupidity was followed by Kili's brave but misplaced and completely useless barrel and demand that she be set free - he should have waited for backup! - and Thorin's majestic swoop with his sword accompanied by the regal fling of his hair, which was apparently a sign for the rest of the troop to charge.

She could still see in her mind's eye Thorin's eyes flashing with some emotion, when she got caught and dangled in the air - again! - before they went cold and murderous and he dropped his sword. When that troll grabbed her, she was petrified. Her limbs were held in four hands the size of the horse-drawn snow plows Hobbiton saw introduced to its roads during last winter, but she nevertheless registered the look. It was so fleeting and her situation so precarious, but it might have been concern. Or fear… Or annoyance… The last one seemed most likely to her now.

Trolls, ever mindful of gender equality, treated her just as any other snack, and she was now sandwiched between dwarfs, half lying on someone's abdomen and her knees poking something soft. She couldn't move much, but when she tried to lift her upper body, pushing off the firm one beneath her head, she saw that not all dwarfs were in sacks. Bofur, Dwalin, Dori, Ori, Nori and Bifur, left in their undies - trolls were all for "dwarf kebab" this evening apparently - were tied onto a turning spit and were being cooked slowly over the fire.

When one of the trolls urged the "chef" to al dente approach, because of the dawn being not far away (and maybe it was no secret to the experienced adventurers, but it was news to Roni, who prefered stories of airy woods and elves, to those of dark caves and trolls) and the sunlight bringing no joy to their sensitive hides, Roni got an idea!

Sitting upright as much as she could, with her hands pushing off the ground at one side, she managed to get up into a wobbly stand. The decorum had to be sacrificed as her bum wriggled inside the sack, which was luckily of comfortable enough size. The string around her neck was not tied too tight and it loosen some, so she could now push out her fingers and scratch the spot on her nose that has been tickled maddeningly for the last several minutes by an erant curl. Thank god trolls' sloppiness was consistent!

"Wait, wait, you are making a huge mistake!"

The attention of the three trolls was on her now. She gulped and hopping nearer to the fire, continued.

"I meant with the seasoning."

One of the trolls abandoned his side of the spit and expressed an interest in her self proclaimed 'how to cook a dwarf' expertise. Dwarfs protested loudly and she did indeed roll her eyes this time at their thickness, but when one of the trolls suggested that he might try himself a sushi dwarf (One of her favorite books in the Baggins library was a hand illustrated "With a spoon around the world" cookbook!), she remembered an anecdote she read of one legendary, far away, on the other side of the world realm's royal chef, that cherished a hopeless and forbidden affection for a princess, and that had, out of desperation, allowed himself to be poisoned by food prepared by an ill qualified upstart. The story was a warning about proper ways of keeping and preparing exotic dishes as well as the uselessness of trying to overstep one's social reach.

"Stop! Don't do that! He's infected. "

The troll dangling Bombur over wide gaping mouth obeyed. The "chef" that lead the culinary discussion with Roni asked for clarification.

"He's got worms! In his… tubes!" she shot.

Bombur was dropped from the troll's hand like a scorching brown betty teapot with a ragged ginger cosy.

"They all do! They are all infected." Dwarfs started protesting, but Thorin, as a king and leader who was used to swiftly, more or less, appraise situations and actions, realised Roni's plan and kicked Kili. The vibration took three seconds before it reached Kili's brain and the next moment he started yelling and was joined in his enthusiastic affirmation of being riddled with the creatures by others. His worms, naturally, had to be biggest of all.

Trolls were not entirely convinced, but Roni kept talking and the ADD, that the trolls were evidently indeed riddled with, kept them at it till Gandalf finally appeared, in the nick of time and, as was his habit when calling uninvited, disrupted his hosts lives thoroughly, or in this case completely.

One sonorous "The dawn will take you all!" and there were three new sculptures decorating Trollshaws.

Roni was examining the petrified figures with a frown when Ori happened to be passing by.

"Hm, come, you are artistic Master Ori: what do you think? Although roughly outlined, in bold, broad treatment of surfaces, their tortured expressions, with an almost 'non finito' look, give them an eerie appeal. What is it, do you think, that the artist is telling us with this work? Always be mindful of time? Life is short?.. Unles you are an elf…"

Despite her sarcastic tone, Roni in fact appreciated art. Unlike books about food, books about art were rare. Hobbits in general didn't care much about such unproductive things. All three volumes that were in her library had a place of honor on her night stand. This time Ori succeeded in shaking away his initial shock at hobbit's address.

"You have an amazing ability to make a dwarf speechless, Miss Bryony. As for their appeal, them being unable to eat me is the only one, right now," he said with a smile and went on to join the others in exploring the troll cave Gandalf discovered near by.

Roni was left to her musings, having firmly refused to set one foot in that rancid smelling place. She was having hard time covering the annoyance and worry she felt about the wizard abandoning them earlier. She was however mindful that he did come through in the end and saved them just in time.

"Your landscaping abilities are as impressive as your timing. Thank you for saving us." She nodded to Gandalf approaching her carrying something swaddled in rags.

"My dear Bryony, you were quite the heroine of this anecdote with your quick thinking." She could never tell whether the wizard was mocking her or being serious.

"She allowed herself be captured and used against us." Thorin's voice was cold and emotionless.

"She was the only one that had the wits to play for time! None of you lot thought of that." Gandalf effectively shut the dwarf up.

"Or anything else at all helpful," mumbled Roni under her breath. Roni`s remark was unheard and probably for the best.

Thorin shifted his gaze first to her and then back to Gandalf and inclined his head the tiniest fragment of a nod, which Gandalf's smirk told her was to represent the dwarf king conceding the point.

"Here, take this, Miss Baggins. It might prove useful." Gandalf was offering her the object he brought and she gingerly took it. "It is a long knife with a very fine elven wrought blade."

Roni never handled any blades outside her kitchen and was reluctant to accept this one, but the thought of the howls she heard at night throughout their journey and the too close encounter with the trolls, introduced the reality of the fact that she might need more than her wits to come through in one peace before all this was over.

"I never used a sword, I don't know if I can apply it on someone…"

At this, Thorin moved away from them impatiently, and Gandalf's face turned serious and his voice dropped.

"The blade will glow blue if there are orcs or goblins near. And with regard to applying it, you will hopefully never have to. But, if you do, remember that true courage is not taking a life, it's knowing when to spear one."

Wizard's tone and cryptic words left Roni not at all comforted and with more questions and worries about their increasingly uncertain future.


	10. Nightmare with intent

A.N.

You may have noticed I haven't been posting these. Here is the first and hopefully the last one.

I have been a fan of _The Hobbit_ book most of my life. I am not great fan of the films. I however like a lot of the stuff in and about them, and here I am mostly following them. With that said, you might have also noticed that I change and omit what I like. I am retelling a well known story and a piece of fan fiction that the films are, and I am doing it for fun. I don't wish to retype the same lines, copy the same songs, show the scenes from the same angle. What would be the point of that?

So, to summarise, while keeping the general outline of the book and films, I change what I wish and omit what I don't like or think I need, including whole characters or smaller events.

And of course, no infringement is intended.

* * *

The stuff of nightmares was chasing them.

The stuff that was worse and more horrific than any stuff of nightmares she had ever had, was chasing them with the unmistakable intent.

Not several moments have managed to pass since Gandalf presented her with the Sting (Everyone was naming theirs, so why not she. When in company of dwarfs...) when its blade developed a blueish glow and immediately they heard a wailing like sound of a horn and howling and thumping of many heavy feet running fast towards them.

"Warg scouts! Everybody run!" Gandalf led the way with Thorin and Dwalin at his feet.

They left the last trees behind very swiftly and were now being hunted throughout a grassy downs sprinkled with massive boulders and rocks that afforded them some protection from the occasional black arrow that would whoosh by.

Although Roni's heart threatened to come out of her mouth and her lungs explode and legs fold under her, the company appeared to run at a drunk snail's pace and trajectory. Kili was holding her hand and pulling her after him, while they zig-zagged from boulder to boulder. And still their pursuers were getting closer.

After what she estimated was several hours of this mad hide and seek game, they entered a cluster of rocks and Gandalf was yelling at them to follow him even as the top of his obviously magic hat - how else would it still be firmly perched on its elevated place - disappeared into a crevice of a massive tor rising out of ground before them.

She practically stumbled through the same space, now pushed by Bifur, because Kili lingered, keeping the most foolish of the orc riders, heedless of their lives and wellbeing getting alarmingly close to their ends, at bay with some impressive archery, giving the rest of the group time to duck into relative safety. Moving on, to the sort of a small open atrium, she saw Gandalf standing at the beginning of what appeared to be a narrow downward sloping tunnel. He urged the dwarfs to keep going down it.

While she was passing him they heard sounds of many horns and very soon swishes and more cries, followed with heavy thumps. Thorin was standing beside Gandalf, being the last one to come down save Kili, and was now listening to the going on above and with such dark expression that Roni thought his forehead might get a permanent new line etched into it, perpendicular to two glossy, black ones that posed as his eyebrows.

First relieved to see Kili jumping into the safety of the natural shelter they were in, and then startled to the point of bumping her curly head to the carved ceiling , Roni saw a body tumble through to where they entered. A vile looking creature, quite dead apparently, if the glassy eyes and multicoloured arrow sticking from his forehead were anything to go by, was sprawled on the rocky floor.

Thorin examined the arrow, curling his lip in obvious disgust (the dwarf's face showed more expressions in the last few moments than it had since they left the Shire). Whether it was because of the elegant arrow or the dead orc she couldn't tell. The ridiculously ornate fletching- she imagined if the fletcher's motto would be somewhere in the lines with "Our arrows take one away, expeditiously and with style!"- had nothing on misplaced sense of accessorizing she noticed on the dead… um, person. Hideous face was made even more so by what must have been near a pound of iron trinkets adorning his features... Nauseated, she closed her eyes, but that only made the image etched itself more in her memory and she quickly opened them searching for some other motive to cleanse them.

Thorin turned and started into the tunnel decisively and obviously angry, gripping her hand as he passed by her and pulled her behind him. She followed without a word. The dwarf had the ability to make her speechless, just as much as Ori claimed she had one to do the same to poor defenceless dwarfs. At one point she felt her other hand being taken and when she glanced back Kili was there, one step behind her. During one surreal moment she was like a little girl being dragged by two stone faced parents. Every little girl knew those kind of faces meant they were in deep trouble. But what she has done this time she hadn't a clue.

Thorin felt her jerk when Kili pulled her hand a bit and turned. Seeing Kili's hand and a cocked eyebrow, Thorin let go of her, turned on his heel and continued to march on.

When the tunnel finally broadened and spewed them outside, they found themselves on a wide, stony perch, overlooking a hand painted picture postcard variety, one sent their family when one went on faraway travels to Bree sort of scene of what could only be an elven dwelling.

Roni wondered if they had a postal office in this august place.


	11. Water Feature(s)

HoM11

Roni would have been lying to herself if she didn't admit she always knew the Dwarf's relative position and sensed his mood at any given moment.

Throughout her life Roni tried not to lie, not to others, and especially not to herself. She didn't lack the ability to and she sometimes did lie. Those were in a sense hobbit appropriate little, "white" lies and more often, truth avoidance, that guarded one's peace of mind, and occasionally their tushie from granny's merry array of swishy willow and birch switches. She practiced this abstinence not only because she avoided any kind of conflict like the plague, but because she was a rubbish liar. And yet, another oxymoron of her pretty oxymoronical life was that on rare occasions she did it well enough to almost get away with anything. But this only happened when the straits were dire and the cause was indubitably just. As mentioned above.

After being greeted very cordially in Rivendell, with only one little good-natured, teasing, and pretty nonsensical song, disturbingly full of personal details - Roni suspected Gandalf of oversharing - the Company was assigned lodgings, which the dwarfs exchanged for camping in a grove with some kind of elven foley, echoing on its columns the foliage and vines that were growing about. They were urged to give their garments to be aired and cleaned and politely urged to do the same with their persons. Again the dwarfs refused the offered amenities and opted for skinny dipping and general frolicking in one of the cascading fountains near their "camp."

That is when Roni was caught unprepared when she returned from her visit to the warm spring near by. Above bubbling waters and steam or the spring a wooden structure was erected. It afforded one with decent amount of privacy. There, she was given scented soap and clean woven towels and a soft robe. She was left alone to enjoy privacy and the returned feeling of normalcy after such a long time of having anything but. Even the question of being clean again and not sporting "Eau de Trollette pour femme" anymore, took back seat compared to the peace and quiet she was afforded there.

Now, being knocked so rudely from the almost nirvana like state she was in, on her way back to her fellow companions, she wished she was not lulled into lowering her guard and not treading carefully, expecting the unexpected behind each corner. Apparently, even elven dwellings couldn't protect one from some shocks.

Thanking to her inattentiveness, she now had one more picture etched in her mind; of an ill used water feature, this time. Several of the sights, she just knew were destined to stay in the "Disturbing, unsettling and troublesome images and memorabilia of the journey there and back again," selection of records her brain insisted on keeping in excruciating detail, and never ever leave it again.

In the few instants that she stood frozen and eyes the size of saucers, she noticed wide shoulders and muscled arms leaning on the edge of the fountain, and a cascade of dark locks shining wet. An ear cuff would have told her the owner's identity , had she had any need for it. Her view was obstructed by a pair of muscular legs, covered in light dew of fair hair and with a tattooed rune above the right ankle, that Roni recognised from seeing it often on each and every piece of blade Fili diligently and constantly kept cleaning. They confidently strolled into the view and stopped, back turned to her, and her eyes were drawn up, up to a pair of firm, rounded… Oh, my, Roni you better scamper! The order blasted through Roni's gray matter and her command center sounded the alarm.

Turning, with the oversized robe billowing after her, she left the scene and once again tried to overlap the image with a more soothing sites of surrounding natural and elven made beauties.

* * *

Thorin found himself relaxing with his pipe in hand, wet tresses splayed over his shoulders and once again his thoughts turned to the company's burglar. He was not at ease in this elvish dwelling, but Gandalf claimed that only in this place they can get the hidden information on his grandfather's map, and he was appreciative of the opportunity to rest and plan and prepare for the crossing over of the mountains. He knew it would be a challenge. And he had no doubts as to his kin following him through it all, not even why the Wizard would go with them, but he was puzzled somewhat by what motivated Miss Bryony.

Contemplating approaching the elven lord with the request to keep her here, until she could be delivered back to her home safely, he discovered that he was loath to do so and decided against it.

His own motivations for this never came under his consideration. The decision once made, he relaxed and watched her sitting between Kili, with whom she seemed to have a very animated discussion, and Fili, who looked content just listening, while occupying his hands with whittling a piece of wood.

His eyebrow went up when he saw Kili take and hold her hand.

* * *

"And what do you deduce, Master Seer?"

Roni felt a bit awkward with Kili placing her hand in his larger one and continuing his sharade of predicting a great fortune for her and "seeing" a tall, dark stranger crossing her path. He moved to sit on his hunches before her.

"He will fall on his knees before you," Kili continued in a ridiculous pitched voice, drawing last syllables out (so that the "you" sounded more like a "youhoo-o"), presumably to represent the a seer's prophetic trance, tracing the lines on her upturned palm with his large finger and caressing her hand with his thumb. She caught a whiff of some herbal soap coming from his still dump locks.

"Just as you will be smitten with his ragged good looks and irresistible charm and sharp wit, my dear girl," finished Kili with over dramatic sigh and sandwiching her hand between his two. Some 'hmpf' like noise came from her other side and she glanced at Fili, but he seemed to still be focused on his whittling.

Feeling somewhat embarrassed, she snatched her hand away.

"I am no silly wench to be swept of my feet just like that, old man." She managed a fake haughty tone. Kili's eyes danced with merriment and he again regarded her with that "knowing" smirk of his. Roni continued in the same aloof and fake stern tone, "Stop this nonsensical behaviour, sir. I demand my person be treated with more respect. Why, I could be your, well not grandmother… I could be your aunt!" Kili's eyebrows disappeared beneath his bangs and his grin could not have gotten much bigger.

"Yes, you certainly could." There was no laughter in Fili's voice as his eyes calmly studied her.

Roni prayed for the earth to open beneath her and swallow her whole.


	12. Left, right, left, right

Thorin felt irritated all through the conference with the elf lord. He could not say that the Lord Elrond was anything but a perfect host, offering aid, reading the map for them and offering advice (nobody asked for), but Thorin didn't trust him or his motives. He could not afford to. And the haughtiness of this place irked him further. He saw no open disrespect, but he felt "the Eldar's " loftiness and thought it aimed at the Company. And he would not suffer attempts for the dwarfs to be made less than they were, before any man. Excusing himself from the elevated table he was placed at for dinner, he passed by Gandalf and stopped by Roni's chair and placing one large hand on her shoulder he offered his other to her, waiting. He saw her lift her face to him with a quizzical expression and a cheek rounded by the morsel she stopped chewing.

Roni swallowed and noting Thorin's serious gaze and cordial manner, she stood up, placing her hand in his, letting him lead her to the rest of the dwarfs in a slow and dignified pace. That he has folded his arm and pulled her close to him, covering her hand with his other one, was noted by all. The side of the hobbit's face closer to Thorin started to rapidly warm up and her hand trembled and stomach clenched.

* * *

Roni's displeasure at being thus "told what to do" was left for later, while she awkwardly tried to fulfill her "role." What that role was supposed to be she hadn't much idea, for an arm ornament was hardly the function she would have ever linked to herself.

Roni felt like she was a piece of painted crockery on display in an ornate porcelain cabinet. Again confused, she thought that this journey has brought her more hours of discomposure than anyone in the Shire would be ready and able to ever believe. She also knew that anyone in the Shire (save her favorite aunt) would tell her that she should have thought about that when she had forgone "the hobbit way" and had ventured on an adventure. Her confusion, was replaced by grumpiness.

* * *

Thorin on the other hand was feeling anything but. As soon as he felt her hand on his arm and they left the raised patio, all his previous annoyance washed away. They descended majestically, as was befitting the Heir of Durin, amongst the dwarven and elven populace, the later segregated into small groups of elvish persons (as unsuspecting Kili had found out to a humorous effect, it was nay impossible to discern elf males from elf females) catering and playing intricately carved instruments, some familiar, some not, to the the large group of raucous, apparently with bottomless stomachs, dwarfs.

The dwarves cheered their joining them and Thorin sat at the head of the table and Roni was placed by his left, next to Fili. She still felt quite unable to look at the dwarf when he addressed her and she scolded herself internally. Her eyes kept drifting to the small knife Fili used to pop boiled potatoes into his mouth. It had Fili's rune on it, too.

Soon, the dwarfs startled the elven musicians with the merry tune of their own, spurred by Bofur jumping on the table and kicking the rhythm with his booted feet.

The food started flying and Roni must have shown some of her distaste on her face when Kili "accidently" threw a radish at her and Fili stood up and offering his hand to her, asked, "Dance with me , Miss Bryony?"

Roni never danced. Not while there were curious eyes to watch anyway. Alone in her kitchen, or gliding between it and her pantry or while overhauling the 3 recipes into a new flavoursome delight, carried by the joy of creation she might have tried a sway or two, but not here, not in front of the representatives of the two thirds of the freeborn nations.

"No, I can't! Thank you. I have two left feet." She aimed a pleading, puppy look at Fili but his eyes were serious and warm.

"No you don't," was his answer and to his credit his look did not stray from her face. He extended his hand a bit more.

'Just like that,' thought Roni and tried not to notice that despite Bofur's frolicking still going on, the two of them started drawing attention.

She accepted his hand and she noticed how this time, while she was led to a clearing between the table and the ornate fence that edged the high perched terrace overlooking spectacular Rivendell scenery, she was the one that did accept. Under some pressure, certainly, but the choice was hers.

The dwarfs began a new song, some kind of a merry jig, very reminiscent of the kind of music Shire folk favored on the annual Harvest Festival and Fili took her left hand lightly in his left and placed his other one around her back and on her waist. They started hopping and twirling and after initially stiffly and reluctantly following, soon enough Roni felt better and better and became less tense under Fili's confident lead. The smile graced her face and she relaxed and followed the increasing pace of the dance, Fili's blue eyes and smiling moustache came in and out of her vision and she twirled and twirled until she was suddenly pulled back towards him and stopped, pressed into his side, feeling the taut muscles and the warmth of him. She raised her head and being a bit shorter than him, she saw his neck and the pulsing under the skin and its long line and her hand twitched with the impulse to trace it to where it met his collarbone, the pure artistic perfection of it fascinating.

In the next instant, the song was finished, the rest of the dwarves resumed their loud talking over each other and Fili stepped back and made a small bow, again offering his hand and taking her to her place when she accepted. The daze she was under seemed not to be in a hurry to leave her.

* * *

A rare sight, that was not witnessed by any of the company, was in the background of 13 dwarves, a hobbit, and a wizard leaving The Last Homely House the following morning.

There were several elves in thigh high boots, with thick aprons, and small pieces of square cloth across the lower parts of their faces, with gloved hands, cleaning the currently closed cascading fountain of Rivendell with large push brooms.


	13. Keeping scores

"Fili, what are your intentions with paying all this attentions to Miss Baggins?"

Climbing the narrow road that went up the sheer side of the mountain, and looked over a sheer drop on the other side, was not the ideal place or time to startle his nephew with a question like that , but Thorin couldn't let things "develop" without knowing what directions they will take. And, Thorin knew his heir and knew that the "cornering when least expected" was a useful tactic with both the mischief prone youths his nephews were.

Fili was maybe more inclined to be serious about taking responsibility. This was the case especially when faced with a no way out, but he was also very adept in finding a "way out" in almost any situation where usually Kili "masterminded" the event and Fili would, in a well established routine, very soon, relent and follow, always finding very reasonable explanation of "protecting the little brother". Not enjoying himself in the process. Not at all.

Thorin beckoned Fili up front and they were now treading behind Gandalf, who seemed entirely unconcerned with their quiet conversation and bent on the road ahead of them.

Thorin knew Fili was trained to respond honestly and with difference to his Uncle, but he saw the tension and noticed the pause before Fili did so. He also knew that he might not have the right to ask, but his concern about the mission they were on and the possibility of serious distractions gave him all the authority he needed. If some other feelings concerning the object of the questioned attentions were in evidence, like the odd proprietary one (and Thorin could not even say towards whom they were aimed more, his nephew or the woman), he refused to acknowledge them playing part in this.

"I don't think I can answer such a question right now, even if it was acceptable for you to pose it. I have no "intentions". If I have showed more preference for the lady's company than you deem appropriate, it was not by design. Miss Baggins is as pleasant companion as one can hope to have while sharing the trials of a long journey and a dangerous quest, and I am surely not the only person to think so, Uncle."

"Aye, that she is." Thorin looked his nephew in the eyes and Fili held his look. Sighing, Thorin broke the gaze. This was not the answer Thorin was hoping for, but at least the boy didn't start professing his undying love and belief that he had found his One!

"You are fully aware of the significance of our quest and of the responsibility that lies on the house of Durin. Any distraction now could put our mission in danger. I...We can not afford that, Fili. "

"I understand that Uncle. Being friendly with members of the company of my preference will not, I solemnly promise, keep me from my duties and responsibilities. Is that satisfactory, Uncle?"

Thorin's reaction to the impertinence was stopped short when he saw Fili's braided moustache that peeked from under his hood, dance with smirk. Before he could reply anything at all, Fili continued.

"And besides, isn't it one of the duties of the Durins, after our home is restored, to provide healthy and as many heirs as they possibly can? One would presume that if one is to secure a suitable partner for it, one is to look to the future and begin searching on time."

Thorin was left, almost, gawking (he just didn't do unmajestic, no matter the shocks he received) after the swaggering back of his heir.

Score: Fili 1, Thorin nil.

* * *

Roni was as miserable as she has never thought she'd be in her life. She was cold, wet, downcast, scared senseless and to top it all, deeply hurt by Thorin's lack of understanding. Sitting in a would be cave ( These infernal mountains couldn't even provide decent enough cavern, that would be dry, and flat, and not drafty… And maybe have a fireplace and a clean pallet or two…), even Kili's half hearted attempts at cheering her up weren't working. He soon gave up and reluctantly went to look for a dry place for his rest.

Her nigh catatonic state, and her glum thoughts that started to turn to contemplating how doable it was to turn back solo and reach Rivendell and its heavenly, warm spas, was interrupted by one more heavy cloak enveloping her gently and Fili sitting by her, their thighs touching.

" What, you too think me a useless waste of space? All you need do is ask, I will move. No need to sit on me." Her hissing left her new companion not very perturbed. He only extended his arm over her shoulder and pressed her closer into his side.

"You are obviously cold and in need of some company. Stop snarling, it is very unbecoming, my dear Miss Baggins."

At least Roni gained some warmth from this, because she could feel her cheeks flaming up. "I am sorry... It is what I do, you know; keep it regulated and try to be decorous and mindful of my temper, as a properly brought up hobbit should be, only to have a fit and bite the head of the unfortunate soul that finds itself on my path."

While she was explaining this, Fili took her hands in his and started rubbing them to warm them up. Roni was so caught up in her misery and new layer of guilt for snapping so rudely, that she hardly registered it. She did start noticing when he lifted one of her hands and blew warm breath to it and then pressed it lightly to his lips. How could she not?! Those surprisingly soft moustaches tickled! She watched him unblinking as he did the same with her other hand and then pressed her palms together and tucked them between his much larger ones, placing them on his knees, and thus drawing her into him still more. "In for a penny, in for a pound?" was his answer to her quizzical look, and she had to smile and relax, letting him envelope her once more and lean them both back a bit, enough to doze off. "Fili 1, Roni nil" was sleepily mumbled to his chest and it was now his turn to smile.

* * *

They were woken up by a loud yell and a flash of light. Fili was jumping for his sword before she fully opened her eyes, and then they were sliding and falling, and falling and the landing was not kind to her behind.


	14. Tin King

"The Tin King"

Brain frozen with fear, Roni oddly didn't "feel" panicked. She didn't behave uncontrollably, didn't tremble, never fainted, never screamed. She didn't think she had the ability to scream. Once she tried with her less tomboyish cousin. They were in the fields, there was no one about, they came just for that purpose. And she couldn't. Her partner in mischief screamed like someone told her all meals after second breakfast were to be canceled for a week, but all Roni produced were some croaking yells and cough like sounds. Half of the time she just stood with mouth agape and waited for a couple of seconds, her neck straining and face turning red, before anything came out. She left the fields resignated and with the belief taking hold that she probably didn't have the necessary apparatus for it. She didn't scream earlier, when the goblins sprang from the back of the cave and herded them all before they could lift a hand. Gandalf solely was not taken, disappearing very much in what one would imagine a wizard's style: in the flash of light and with great thunder like bang. The rest of them were all captured after their tumble and ungracious landing (A thought about whether Thorin managed to land majestically enough on his bum or his big, handsome, head flashed through Roni's mind) and made to run along roughly hewn stone tunnels. She was grateful of all things that what she thought of as her luck again served her and she was not treated differently from the others. This insane thought to be had at such a time did not come completely out of the blue.

She has noticed that no one was giving her differential treatment on account of her gender. Not amongst the "bad guys" anyway. Not the trolls, and not the goblins now. Even elves thought her a child at first, not a woman.

Goblins certainly were not showing any special interest in her, just herded her along with the rest, their wip zipping over her head just as much as any of the others companions, and not getting as much contact only because Dwalin and Thorin pulled her between them to shield her. If she had any breath to spare and enough space in her brain unoccupied with the all encompassing panic she would have been astounded at such show of care from older dwarfs. But she saw that Dori and Nori did the same for Ori and Fili tried to do it for stubborn Kili, who refused to hide behind (or in front) of his brother. So, it looked like these actions were about the weaker ones that needed protecting, not about her being a female.

This was a thing that puzzled her, because she was always told that long travels, if any, are not for females and especially unattached and therefore unaccompanied by a husband who'd protected them ones. All sort of unspecified horrors could happen to such females. Which horrors exactly, she didn't know. Being killed and eaten by wild beasts or orcs wasn't horrible enough?! Roni didn't think she was naive (gullible maybe) but she also knew that she was not worldly, living the protected life in the Shire.

She remembered Kili's blunder with "fancying" the youthful looking elf who, although fair of features, turned out not to actually be of the so dubbed sex. She wondered if all these creatures surrounding them were male. If their females were different in appearance than males. It would be logical, almost all the living creatures she knew of had distinguishable gender features. Maybe it wasn't so with these. She did hear stories of dwarf ladies appearing the same as their male counterparts. But she didn't believe it. What would be achieved by that?

She thought her being of the female persuasion was evident enough. She might not be an attractive or very feminine one, but she had all the attributes. Goblins didn't seem to notice, or care.

They were brought to a halt in front of a raised dias and Roni tried to catch her breath, inhaling deeply and regretting it instantly. The air, if it could be called that at all, was stifling, hot, humid and with the rancid smell prevailing.

There were hundreds of goblins around and maybe some were females. There must have been some. Roni couldn't tell which ones they could be. Not that she wished to look closer. The fear added to her unwillingness to make direct eye contact.

"Who do we have here?" came a booming voice of the biggest of the goblins, sitting on some sort of dais.

The Goblin king (for the figure before them was unmistakably holder of authority in this place) was built like a smallish bear, with wide shoulders, log like arms, muscled thighs, with sickly green-grayish hide and googly, bloodshot, watery gray eyes , with thin strands of hair combed over his big head, that carried, what to Roni looked like tin (She was a hobbit, not a dwarf, what did she know about metallurgy?!) but was in actuality, as she was to find out much later, an iron circlet, representing, one would presume, his royal status among the goblin nation.

To her great trepidation, he noticed her and fixed her with his watery stare. He descended towards their group and Thorin and Dwalin stood their ground, chins raised and eyes narrowed.

The Goblin King paid them no mind it seemed and stopped in front of the hobbit. Roni tried to stay calm. When the goblin beaconed her with his clawed finger she gulped but moved closer, despite the protesting Fili and Kili. After inviting her to follow him with a few quiet words, leaning down a bit, the goblin had her escorted to a shed at the edge of the platform with his throne, leaning on one side to the almost straight cliff wall of the cavern they were in. Dwarfs all joined in protesting loudly and Fili, Kili and Ori no less, had to be restrained by Dwalin, Bifur and Dori beside them, lest they be battered by the goblin guards surrounding them. Looking back she gave her friends what she hoped was an encouraging smile and the last thing she saw before entering were several spears and similar very sharp looking things aimed at Thorin's chest and face, after he pushed off the nearest guard and tried to move forward.

Goblin king removed a filthy curtain that covered the entrance and in a mock gentlemanly manner let her walk in.


End file.
